


one life pretending to be the cat who got the cream

by brophigenia



Series: Pynch Week 2018 [5]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sailor Moon Fusion, Crack Treated Seriously, Day 5: Fandom Fusion, Fluff, M/M, Pynch Week, Pynch Week 2018, actual ridiculousness, mention of past temporary character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brophigenia/pseuds/brophigenia
Summary: “I am Raven Scout!” Gansey exclaims, striking a power pose that both Adam and Ronan have privately assured him is completely ridiculous. Still, Gansey persists on doing it. The rotted wastrel monster they’re fighting seems even less impressed by the pose than Ronan and Adam are. Noah really doesn’t care, and anyway, he’s not exactly the best proponent of good taste. “And in the name of Glendower, I’ll punish you!”(Y'all, it's the Sailor Moon AU nobody asked for but hopefully you've all been dying to read, anyway. Gansey is Raven Scout, leader of the Kilted Scouts; Ronan is in love with Adam, and Chainsaw is way cooler than a talking cat, anyway.)





	one life pretending to be the cat who got the cream

**Author's Note:**

> Don't fucking look at me.

“I am Raven Scout!” Gansey exclaims, striking a power pose that both Adam and Ronan have privately assured him is  _ completely  _ ridiculous. Still, Gansey persists on doing it. The rotted wastrel monster they’re fighting seems even  _ less  _ impressed by the pose than Ronan and Adam are. Noah really doesn’t care, and anyway, he’s not exactly the best proponent of  _ good taste.  _ “And in the name of Glendower, I’ll punish you!” 

Ronan rolls his eyes and takes out his dirk, internally shuddering at the indignity of using a Scottish weapon. His thousand-year-old alter ego may have strange Highland roots, but Ronan Lynch was raised very firmly  _ Irish,  _ thankyouverymuch. The fact that he’s a member of the  _ Kilted Scouts  _ is about the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to him, up to and including the time Matthew found the KY in his nightstand and asked Ronan why he was  _ caulking  _ in his bedroom. In front of their parents. Holding the fucking tube in his hand. 

Gansey goes on, monologuing about truth and justice, because his magic superpower is  _ boring  _ Negaverse monsters to death. 

Ronan is a fan of the more  _ direct  _ approach, however, so he just throws his sock dagger across the room and nails the thing right between its hollowed-out eye sockets. It gives a great death rattle and then dies in an explosion of wailing and dust, so Ronan chalks one up for the home team and gets ready to go the fuck home so he can study for his stupid fucking  _ French  _ test tomorrow. 

Gansey pouts in his direction. “Ronan, I  _ had him!”  _ He exclaims, because when he transforms into Raven Scout he becomes even more ridiculous. Before any of this happened, Ronan would’ve claimed that Gansey had already maxed out on the level of absolute  _ insanity  _ a body could hold. Since they were  _ awakened  _ or whatever, he knows that what he saw before was just the tip of the damn iceberg. 

“Gansey, we don’t have time to stand around while you give your spiel about truth, justice, and the American way,” Adam sighs, shouldering around Ronan so he can walk at the front of the group, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. He’s not getting much sleep. Ronan wishes he’d take some fucking time to  _ breathe,  _ but of course Adam takes this shit as seriously as he takes everything else- school, his two jobs, being a fucking downer all the time. Magician Scout is definitely the most lethal of any of them; Raven Scout is their requisite useless baby, Ghost Scout is super fucking creepy but aimless as hell, and Ronan’s best Dream Scout dagger-throw is still not  _ quite  _ as badass as what Adam can do with a pack of tarot cards and some matches. 

“Yeah, G, some of us have lives to live,” Noah snickers, good-natured as usual. Ronan’s glad to see it; sometimes when he transforms, Noah goes still and quiet, touching his cheek like he can remember the feeling of it caving in beneath Queen Piper’s war club. He’d been the first to die of all of them, in their past life. Ronan won’t let it happen again. 

“You’re just going to go home and jerk off to _the Gilmore Girls,_ Noah,” Gansey says, faux-scandalized and tipping up his nose. They all roar with laughter, drowning out Noah's protests that Lorelei is _a fucking MILF, guys!,_ even Adam, and Ronan thinks that maybe, just  _ maybe,  _ this whole magical kilted boy vigilante thing isn’t so bad. 

_ Maybe.  _

 

***

 

Of course, he gets proven fucking wrong  _ again  _ the next night, when the Negaverse trash has reformed  _ and  _ brought fucking friends. He and Noah are fighting back to back, and Adam is doing his thing with the cards, but Ronan  _ can’t see Gansey.  _

He casts around wildly, swinging his dagger in a vague arc as he looks around for their wayward leader. 

His eyes finally find Gansey, overwhelmed by six beasts at once and bleeding elegantly from a slice on his cheek. He tries to shout for Adam over the din of the fight but his voice is swallowed up in the fray and Adam doesn’t hear him, still bent and chanting over his spread. 

He’s just about resolved to throw his dagger across the room and sacrifice his own weapon and safety when a booming, high-pitched voice rings out over the public park they’re currently making a ruckus in. 

“How dare you attack such handsome young men, and on a school night, too!” The voice is full of condemnation and not a little bit of amusement, and comes from the figure standing balanced atop the swingset, cape fluttering dramatically in the breeze. 

“Cerulean Lieutenant!” Gansey exclaims, swoony as all hell, and Ronan rolls his eyes. It is indeed their colorfully-named ally, dressed all in blue battle armor, eyes hidden away by a domino mask. She’s about five foot nothing, is Cerulean Lieutenant, but even Ronan has to admit that she can kick some  _ serious  _ ass. 

As if reading his mind, Cerulean Lieutenant vaults down from her perch atop the swingset, directly into the path of the Negatrash harassing Gansey. She puts a boot in one’s face and the full blade of her sword into another’s gut; Ronan approves, and turns back to slaughtering his own share of their foes. 

By the end of it they’re all exhausted but  _ alive,  _ which is about as much as Ronan could ask for on a shitty night like this. Gansey swoons all over Cerulean Lieutenant, vying with Noah for her attention, which gives Ronan plenty of opportunity to sidle up next to Adam, looking him up and down for damage. 

“You think they’re ever gonna realize it’s Blue Sargent from school?” Adam asks, lips curving up in an amused smile as he tips his chin in their direction. Ronan bites on his knuckles to keep down his own laughter, and shrugs. 

“I mean, she literally calls herself  _ Cerulean  _ _Lieutenant._ So, I’m betting it’s a  _ no.”  _ Ronan says, and is inordinately pleased when Adam laughs, free of cynicism and for once not exhausted. Adam-after-a-fight is one of his favorite Adams, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. 

God, he’s got it so fucking bad. 

 

***

 

“You still need to set your sights towards finding the Raven Prince.” Chainsaw reminds him, and Ronan sighs, laying his arm over his eyes as if that will hide him from what he  _ must do.  _

“You know we haven’t had any luck finding him,” he retorts, and peeks out at her. She looks supremely unamused. He would be, too, if he was stuck as a sentient bird and had to deal with a bunch of fuckup teenagers in fucking  _ magical kilts.  _

“You are not looking in the right places.” Chainsaw mutters, and Ronan flips over on the grass, burying his face in the dirt. She perches on the back of his neck, nosing her beak at his stubble in a kind of pathetic attempt at grooming. 

“No shit, Sherlock.” He says, and takes comfort in her laughing squawk. 

“He’ll be in the last place you look,” she advises, and then they don’t speak for a long time, enjoying the dying sunlight together. 

 

***

 

Cerulean Lieutenant takes an arrow to the chest for Gansey, and then Gansey’s heartbroken tears form a magical crystal, and then Gansey transforms into the fucking Raven Prince. Because honestly, why the fuck not? 

_ The last place you look,  _ Chainsaw had said, and Ronan had to give her points for that bit of wisdom, because she’s right. Gansey is the last damn person he would’ve looked at and said  _ hey, I think they’re the Raven Prince,  _ but the more he stares at Gansey the more sense it makes, until he realizes that all of his old memories have been unlocked, not just the arbitrary ones about their past adventures as Scouts, on the battlefield. Dying. 

He remembers Gansey. 

He remembers  _ Blue.  _

Ronan remembers  _ everything,  _ and he finds himself a little wet-eyed because it’s a fucking relief, to know that at least a thousand years ago he still thought Adam Parrish’s skinny ass was the hottest thing going. He didn’t stand a chance in this century, if he couldn’t stay away then. 

Blue comes back to life and she and Gansey kiss and then straight up  _ murder  _ Queen Piper while Ronan and Noah and Adam are still tied up with uncomfortably-agile vine-tentacle-things on the ground. All in all, there’ve been worse fights. 

 

***

 

Ronan fucking hates the Outland Kilted Scouts. He hated them a thousand years ago and he hates them now; of course fucking  _ Kavinsky  _ had to be one of them. Of  _ course.  _ Fucking  _ Thief Scout, _ with his pack of fucking  _ dogs,  _ and it’s even worse when they’re all firmly on the same side, fighting against a common enemy. When he’s leaning down to let Prokopenko use his back as a springboard, when he’s covering Skov’s blindspot, when he’s taking Kavinsky’s fucking hand when it’s offered to help him up off the ground after he takes a kick to the face. 

Kavinsky takes a knife to the gut and then Prokopenko is there, snarling. Love Scout, Ronan’s  _ ass.  _ Rabies Scout, more like, with Prokopenko  _ actually  _ tearing out the offending monster’s throat with his fucking  _ teeth.  _ The knife wound isn’t even that  _ deep.  _ Kavinsky milks it for all it’s worth, though, leaning heavily on Skov and fluttering his lashes nastily at Ronan. “Gonna kiss it better for me, Dreamboat?” 

“Fuck off, K.” Ronan is startled by the vehemence in Adam’s voice; Adam shoulders past all of them and takes off towards his apartment, breaking from the group without a look in their direction. Kavinsky looks from Adam’s rapidly-disappearing form to Ronan’s dumbfounded expression with a look on his face like the cat that ate the canary, deep fried and whole. 

Ronan sighs. “Don’t even fucking start,” he mutters, and lets Prokopenko muscle him out of the way so he can be closer to K’s side, fretting over him all demure and  _ pastel  _ like he doesn’t still have  _ blood  _ in his  _ teeth.  _

Fucking ridiculous. So what if Adam is fucking PMSing? Whatever. It’s  _ whatever.  _

 

***

 

It’s not whatever. Ronan tosses and turns half the night, restless in his bed; Chainsaw squawks at him angrily from her perch, trying to sleep and unable to with his constant rustling. 

Finally he throws back the covers and stuffs his feet into his boots, finding a jacket to put on over his pajamas. He knows, after years of teenage (and pre-teenage) rebellion, which stairs squeak and which don’t. He creeps out the front door silently, with no one in the house any the wiser. It’s a useful skill, even if it always does make him feel momentarily lonely whenever he manages it, standing on his own doorstep and thinking about how no one in his house even knows him. Not really, anyway. 

Adam’s apartment is small, situated overtop St. Agnes’ Catholic Church. Another place that Ronan is no longer comfortable in, after the revelation of his true identity. If he’s the reincarnation of an ancient kilt-wearing warrior space alien, that kind of defeats the whole purpose of saying the rosary, huh? 

Ronan raps lightly on the door so as not to wake any of the nuns or priests sleeping in the abbey downstairs. It doesn’t take much. Adam is a very light sleeper. Ronan would think it’s a side-effect from the abuse, but he has memories of Adam being the same way, during their past lives. His hair had been long then, long enough to braid. Ronan had tugged on it to get his attention, restless and begging to be noticed. The memories, even as old as they are, still bring a hot flush to his cheeks. 

“What is it? Gansey? Something with the Negatrash?” Adam asks through a yawn once he’s opened the door, scratching idly at his bare stomach, still half-asleep. 

Ronan looks at him and feels fucking  _ caught.  _ He looks at Adam’s sleep ruffled hair and his sleep-swollen mouth and his pillow-creased cheeks and he just  _ can’t,  _ anymore. 

The kiss is sloppy, too-earnest and toothsome. He nicks Adam’s lip a little, tastes blood in his mouth, coppery and bright. It’s a mess. He’s a mess. He’s ready to pull back and apologize and then possibly fling himself into a live volcano; he’s about to do it, and then Adam’s hands come up, cradling the back of his skull like he’s the most fragile, most precious thing in the entire world. Adam sighs out through his nose, a ticklish puff between them, and drags Ronan closer, inside, so he can shut the door and  _ press Ronan up against it.  _

“Finally,” Adam sighs, their lips still pressed together. “Thought you’d never do it.” 

Ronan shuts his eyes and wraps his hands around Adam’s wrists, leaning his head back so he pins Adam’s hands between the back of his skull and the door. He never wants Adam to let go. There has been a thousand years of  _ wanting  _ and all Ronan wants now is for them to sink into each other, absorb each other, become one body with one heart and one mind. 

It’s ridiculous.  _ He’s  _ ridiculous, worse than Gansey ever thought about being. 

Adam must be at least partially as ridiculous, though, because he leans forward and presses his forehead to Ronan’s collarbone, just breathing him in. There’s nothing more that needs to be said. 

That’s the perks of knowing someone for as long as Ronan and Adam have known each other. After a while, words lose all their meaning. There is only deeds and intentions, and Ronan and Adam can understand each other just fine. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @ brophigenia.tumblr.com


End file.
